


Out Sweeps The Tide

by BinaBina



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Interspecies Romance, M/M, because piers deserves a giant loving bf, can i tag size difference even tho it isnt smutty, cw vomiting of seawater, it's a mermaid au SOMEONE'S gotta almost drown only to be saved by you know what it's the law, mermaid au, mermaid telepathy, mermaid!Leon, people know mer exist they're just rarely sighted, piers and sonia are bffs, saved from drowning, some morbid thoughts, specifically gigantic mermaid leon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaBina/pseuds/BinaBina
Summary: Piers glances at the open sea. The waves are getting rougher, the wind wilder, and the sky grows denser as the storm clouds roll in. He's got enough time to watch this slice of the circle of life.Whatever the octopus is hunting, it's fast, and very brightly colored.Oddly-colored, too... Purple and brown and gold and sunset fire, he's never seen a fish colored like that before, in person or in pictures. If he snaps a picture, Sonia might know what it—A gasp whisks into his lungs when the prey creature is backed into a corner of rock, the encroaching web of the octopus's limbs spreading and blocking off every escape route. The little thing is pressed against the rock, glancing every which way, and the most human face looks up at him, golden eyes wide and desperate.Mer!
Relationships: Background Sonia/Nessa, Dande | Leon/Nezu | Piers, Piers&Sonia
Comments: 19
Kudos: 60





	Out Sweeps The Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Just something cute and fun to tide me over from writing heavier stuff B) Enjoy!

The sand is damp beneath Piers' bare feet. Behind him, a long string of footprints dot the sand, unblurred by the surf of the slow-retreating tide. To the right is land, sand and rock and cliff, and to the left, the open sea, grey beneath the darkening sky. All around, a damp wind swirls unhindered, warm and pushy and clinging to every lock of Piers' hair, tugging it this way and that, unable to make up its mind on a direction.

A storm is coming, and Piers is on his way back to the borrowed abode.

The ominous weather on the horizon didn't stop him from venturing out on this stroll, hoping for musical inspiration amidst the elements without another human being to be found for miles, but now that said weather is far closer than the horizon, he's wisely turned around, pace measured to get him home just before the rain starts coming down.

The only obstacle that requires more brainpower to navigate than simply taking one step at a time is the broad, jagged finger of rock that melts from the nearest cliff into the sand, and from there dips into the sea. Far more of it is exposed thanks to the lowering tide, and Piers takes an interested detour to pick his way over the complicated rocks and whatever pools might be hidden between.

The empty bucket in his hand swings as his arms splay for balance. He's always been nimble, but on slippery rock this close to the sea, he takes no chances. Three points of contact at all times. He transfers the plastic handle to his teeth and picks his way across.

Starfish and shellfish cling to the walls of the tide pools below, nestled between slow-swaying sea grass, vibrant against dark rock. Brown seaweed twists peacefully in some of the deeper pools, and anemones abound. Seaweed, seaweed, more seaweed. Little crabs, a shiny fish here and there. Algae everywhere... If his best friend were here, she'd be able to point out each variant, spouting scientific names and gushing over the local biodiversity, but to Piers' eyes, all they are are slip hazards.

He's almost to the other side when a flicker of movement catches his eyes from below.

By the time he stills and tucks his bangs out of the way, he's missed the source of the initial flash of movement, but there's something else reaching after it. The twisting arm of a ruddy octopus. On the hunt for a fish?

Piers glances at the open sea. The waves are getting rougher, the wind wilder, the sky denser as storm clouds roll in. He's got enough time to watch this slice of the circle of life.

Whatever the octopus is hunting, it's fast, and very brightly colored. _Oddly_ -colored, too... Purple and brown and gold and sunset fire, he's never seen a fish colored like that before, in person or in pictures. If he snaps a picture, Sonia might know what it—

A gasp whisks into his lungs when the prey creature is backed into a corner of rock, the encroaching web of the octopus's limbs spreading and blocking off every escape route. The little thing is pressed against the rock, glancing every which way, and the most human face looks up at him, golden eyes wide and desperate.

_Mer!_

It's a bloody—

Never in his life would he think he'd ever see one in person! And it's about to be eaten! Circle of life be damned, he can't allow a mer of all things to meet its end here.

Fat drops of rain plip against the stone and against his back as Piers scrambles down, mindful of every sharp edge. He carefully balances himself over the pool and sticks his foot into the cold water, splashing and fussing to frighten the octopus away. It hardly works when dinner is within reach. Piers curses and risks venturing lower, dropping the plastic bucket into the pool and hooking his ankle around the handle. He pulls it over the octopus's head, hoping to god that the little mer knows he means to help.

He doesn't wait long, because the tiny thing dashes out, dodging hungry twisting arms and leaping to refuge. Piers hauls it up with his leg, cursing how heavy water is and hoping to god his calf doesn't cramp.

He doesn't know how he scrambled out of the rocks without slipping, or without spilling the precious contents of the bucket.

He slows to a stop on the beach, panting more from stress than real exertion, and gazes down into what's clutched to his chest.

Inside the bright yellow plastic is an honest-to-god mer. Hardly bigger than his hand, the gold of its tail puts the artificial sunshine of the bucket to absolute shame, somehow glimmering even without a sun in the sky. The large fan of the tail is a brilliant gradient of sunset, gold fading to orange, blossoming to pink and spreading to a vibrant violet that matches the hair on top of its head.

It looks like a male, but... who's to know for sure? Piers knows nothing about mer biology. Hardly anyone does. They're rare creatures who distance themselves from humans. Intelligent, mystical, and able to grow to massive sizes if resources are plentiful enough, mer are respected, and left alone by anyone out at sea. In turn, they hardly cause trouble for any boats. Fishermen can go their whole lives without seeing more than a phantom glimpse, a flicker deep in the water. Some lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you view it—folk can tell stories about how they nearly drowned, fallen off of boats or unwisely staying out for too long and running out of air in their scuba tanks, only to be safely carried to the surface by large hands.

This little guy looks too small to save anybody, but those golden eyes glitter with intelligence all the same. Intelligence, and... gratitude? He did save the poor thing from getting eaten. Dying a poor death trapped in a tide pool, what a sorry way to go... What was he doing in such shallow waters, to get trapped like that? Anything capable of living a free life should be just that. Free.

Kind of makes a man jealous. Better let this thing go.

Piers licks his dry lips. Before a word can come out, whether it's apology or greeting or statement of intent, another warm drop pings him on the temple, and thunder rolls from over the ocean. Lightning flashes amidst the convoluted clouds, and a powerful shear of wind has him clutching the bucket to his chest and bracing himself on the sand. The sky is so densely grey it might as well be nighttime. This storm's going to be far heavier than he expected with how fast it's blowing in.

Can he really let this tiny thing go in such terrible weather? The beach house is close, and there's a saltwater fish tank set up with some anemones as its only inhabitants. He promised to watch over it for Sonia as one of the conditions for being allowed to stay there. Surely it wouldn't hurt to add one more occupant for the night.

A strike of lightning piercing the sea, far too close for comfort, jolts him into action. He's a living lightning rod standing on the open beach like this.

"Can't stay out here. It ain't safe. I'm sorry for this, I swear I ain't stealin' ya, I'll take ya home after this is all over."

He has no clue if it can understand him.

Each rumble of thunder is louder and clearer than the last, and the rain is slamming down in earnest by the time he makes it home. The screen door of the beach house clatters shut behind him. Piers barely remembers to stop and rub the bottoms of his feet against his calves to brush the sand off before rushing into the rest of the house.

It's quaintly decorated, with plenty of colorful cushions and oceanic decorations scattered on every flat surface and wall. Piers makes a beeline for the main bedroom, careful not to splash any precious water out.

"Only temporary, please don't hate me for this," he pleads, setting the bucket down onto the floor. The tank has no top, as there's no fish to leap out, and a large horizontal light hangs above the length of it, lighting up the insides with an attractive glow. What does he do, though? Just... pour the bucket in? Scoop up the mer in his hands and transfer it? Will touching the little guy hurt him? He knows absolutely nothing about taking care of aquatic anything, he's just a musician, and not even a professional one, at that!

He debates calling Sonia. She'd know what to do. Hell, she'd probably shriek his phone's speakers to bits if he told her what happened, jump into her car, and break every speed limit on the way back.

But...

She's also been going on for days about how much she's been looking forward to this break from all her research. Her and her fiancée had been planning this getaway for days. Can he really call her away from that? Sonia's partner is a model with a busy schedule, the stars had to align with machine precision in order for them to have this.

He groans and tosses his phone to the bed. He can't take away their precious time together. It's only for a few hours, or a single night, however long the storm lasts. He can do this. Mer are hardy, so there's no way he can fuck up and make it sick or injure it in the short time they're together, right...? Only the life of one of the most majestic creatures of the sea in his hands to not kill. No pressure...

Resolve firmed, Piers takes the bucket and eases it into the large tank. Got to let the temperatures equalize before letting the two water sources come into contact; he knows that much, at least.

The mer swims around in tight circles and Piers winces in empathy. Definitely needs more room to exist in.

"Sorry, I know this must be confusin', but I promise I'm just tryin' to help ya."

To his surprise, the mer slows to a stop, and peeks up at him from just below the surface. Simple curiosity? Or...

"...Can ya understand me?"

The little thing grins. Piers almost drops the bucket the rest of the way into the tank.

It's a well known fact that mer come in a huge range of sizes, and that age has no bearing on size. How big a mer gets depends entirely on how plentiful prey is. If fed enough, a mer can grow exponentially, to the point where they're able to snatch and eat orcas like snacks. Juveniles can be huge, and elders can remain small.

That said, it's impossible to tell how old this one is... If it's able to understand his intent, it's at least old enough to have the smarts to differentiate friend from foe. On closer inspection, it certainly doesn't give off the vibe of someone young...

Piers lets out a slow breath to steady himself. If nothing else, it's a relief to know his actions aren't being misunderstood.

"In that case, hope ya know why I did all this. Didn't want either of us gettin' struck by—"

The entire house flashes a stark white. Piers' hand tightens around the bucket handle just in time for thunder to crash around them, harshly as any wave batters a rocky cliff.

"...By that."

The mer didn't flinch from the light and the noise. Just keeps staring, not even blinking. Mer wouldn't need to blink underwater, so it makes sense, but that rationale doesn't make the stare any less intense. Has this little one never seen a human before?

Piers sighs and pokes his finger into the tank, then gingerly slips the same finger into the bucket. Temperature isn't noticeably different. Might it be safe enough to start letting the water exchange?

Before he can withdraw his hand, the mer swims up to it. Not wanting to frighten it with sudden movements, Piers holds stock still. Please don't bite, he gets bitten enough by his sister's pet every time he manages to visit.

No tiny chomp comes. Instead, a small, exploratory hand brushes down his finger. The touch is light enough to trigger his skin's sensitivity, and he shivers. He can see now that the fingers are webbed, and tipped with the tiniest little claws. They tap at his black-painted nail and he relaxes, all trepidation swept away by this small show of intrigue.

"Like the sparkle?" His nail polish has no shortage of glitter in it, protected behind a layer of hard varnish. "I like it too."

He lowers more of his hand into the bucket, and the mer delights at the addition of other colored nails, visiting each in turn with a marveling touch at each. That purple hair floats along, elegant in its sway and tickling him every time it brushes his skin.

Maybe it's because he hasn't seen another living person in a whole week, but he's feeling rather chatty. The whole reason he came out here, other than to do Sonia a favor and keep her place occupied while she's away, was to get some healthy isolation in. His music's been in a slump lately, his normally cozy city felt stifling, and every time anyone looked at him it made his skin crawl. So he all but leapt at the chance to get away from it all. The peace and quiet of the beach-house-slash-personal-research-base did wonders to soothe his soul, and for the first time since he said goodbye and good luck to his best friend as she tossed the keys his way, he feels like being social.

"Do my nails every time I come out here. My friend's got every color of the rainbow." He lowers the bucket further, letting the tank's water cradle the weight, and glances around the bedroom. The shelves laid into the wall are laden with books and binders and stacks of papers held together with colorful clips. Research papers and scientific stuff, mostly, although he spots a few romance novels tucked away in one corner. Sonia does love her lesbian pirate narratives. Quite good reads, to be honest. "This is her place, you know. She likes livin' by the sea. Does lots of field research, mappin' out the seafloor and lookin' for wrecks and ruins. Brilliant lass, she is. Did me a big favor by lettin' me stay here."

A small splash catches his attention. Is the mer... pouting? God, he doesn't want to remove any dignity from what's objectively a noble creature, but that expression is bloody adorable. If that cheek were big enough he'd want to pinch it.

"Wot, not interested in hearin' about her?"

The mer wrinkles his nose. Interesting that they even have noses.

"Wanna hear about me instead?" he tries, dryly joking. Compared to the people he knows, he's not worth investigating. Hell, even without the comparison, he's not worth a second glance.

To his surprise, the little creature perks up and splashes again, some of the droplets hitting his hand. "I assure you, I'm far less interesting..."

The mer—he really wishes he knew this thing's name, if mer even have names—pulls on his thumb in protest. Pushy little bugger.

"Alright, alright. I'm warnin' ya, you'll be bored to tears." The quick zip the mer does around the perimeter of the bucket draws half a smile from him. "But first, let's get you some more space, hm? Can you breathe in this tank alright? Promise there's no hungry octupi wantin' to make a snack of ya."

Another round of thunder rattles the house as he slowly tips the bucket at an angle that allows the mer the freedom to slip forward and enter the tank at will. A small head lifts out of the surface of the water, purple hair slicked down dark in the open air, and an arm reaches over the rim, dips into the tank, and scoops up a handful for the mer to bring to his mouth and taste.

With a few quiet clicks, the mer slips out of the bucket and into the tank. No convulsing or looking like it's about to suffocate, so... success. Piers sags with relief and removes the bucket, not wanting to let any extra seawater into Sonia's precious anemone tank in case whatever extra microorganisms he unwittingly introduces kills the poor things. Or maybe it'll make them happy? Fuck if he knows.

Inside the fish tank, seventy whole gallons if he remembers correctly, the little thing flits about, exploring the decorations and live plants with keen interest and a complete lack of hesitation in touching the stinging tentacles of Sonia's beloved, brainless pets.

Piers takes a seat on the edge of the bed in the middle of the room. The covers are ridiculously plush, and even his skinny arse sinks right into them.

"Need somethin' to call you... Don't suppose you have a way of tellin' me yer name." If mer even have names that humans can pronounce. Piers takes idle pride in his ability to parrot almost any noise that can be formed with vocal cords.

No reaction. Just more exploring.

Piers scratches the side of his head and watches. Inspirational gold glimmers every time the mer changes direction.

Gold, sunshine, treasure, coins... sunflowers. Daffodils. Dandelions. Dande-lions. Dandel-eons? Leons. Leon! That works. Suits the little guy's mane, too.

"I'll call ya Leon, how's that."

The mer stops poking around and swims up to the glass, hair swirling around a bright grin. Piers can't help but return it with a subtle curve of his own lips. Happy little guy, for someone who nearly got eaten and is now stuck in a complete stranger's home.

He looks about the room and spots a cushy armchair. No harm in some temporary redecoration.

Leon watches with interest as Piers drags the armchair from one corner of the room, around the bed, and up against the huge wooden stand the tank rests on. There. Now he can sit nearby and be more easily heard through all the rain and thunder.

"Mind if I sit with ya, Leon?" he asks, folding his legs up beneath him on the overstuffed cushions. The rain hammering the roof lends an extra sense of isolation to everything, like he's stuck inside a tank just the same.

Leon swims right up. Come to think of it, this is the first time they could really get a good look at each other, without the rippling barrier of water to distort their vision. Only clean, clear glass, and a hand's width of air space.

Those eyes are real pretty... Leon's got quite a handsome visage. Strong jaw, muscular build despite being so small, sharp fins of spiked yellow where ears would be on a human. Dense hair that floats and sways. And those lovely scales. He can see now that little flecks of sunshine dot Leon's shoulder like freckles, and that the fins at Leon's hips are rather large and carry the same blushing hues near the tips as the tail does. Speaking of, that rippling, fan-like tail cuts a sharp shape in the water, iridescent where the membrane grows thinner and thinner, but no less vibrant. One would think that the mer was a meticulously crafted realistic doll if he held still.

A flash of violet startles the hell out of him and he jerks back. Large frills fan out from the sides of Leon's neck. Gills? A warning sign? Probably creeped the little guy out with all his staring, go him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to inspect ya so hard."

When he glances back, Leon is pouting. Pouting? Over what? Once noticed, the mer perks up and fans his gills out again, tail swaying and flicking the fans and fins wide open.

"Oh, I see." Piers relaxes and leans close to the glass again, this time getting his fill of inspecting those frills. Leon is more than happy to angle himself this way and that. "You're a little show off, ain't ya. Yes, yes, you're real handsome. Very impressive." He chuckles at how the mer's chest puffs, and relaxes back into the armchair.

"If you were bigger, I could definitely believe those rumors of mer distracting sailors out at sea. Wouldn't even have to sing. Just sit there on a rock and look pretty and all those poor sailors would be goners."

He sighs and gently rests his head against the fish tank. "What a life, though, eh? Sittin' and singin' for whoever wants to listen to ya..."

Leon gracefully sinks to the sand, lying back and gazing up at him with full attention and an equally full smile. Is it just the light doing weird things with shadows, or is Leon... making _eyes_ at him? No, there's no way. He's imagining that.

"You're listenin' to me now, is that what ya wanna say?" There's no way a mer really wants to hear about a random human's thoughts and problems. He's just a stranger who was in the right place at the right time, and a different species entirely to boot.

But... what's the harm? Leon will be set free the moment the weather clears up. Anything he says won't carry any impact on Leon's life, or his own. There's a bonus of not getting any well-intentioned advice thrown his way, too. He loves his friends, but sometimes a guy just wants to talk things out to an audience. See how thoughts feel when given shape in the real world through lips and tongue and voice.

"Alright," he sighs. "Why not?"

Where to start. They've got all night, since Piers suspects this storm will last for hours and hours, a real rager. So he settles in, gazes through the glass, and talks. It's an awkward start, since he's not used to anyone paying attention to him for this long, but the longer he goes, the smoother it flows.

He talks about his history. How he grew up, where he grew up, what his hometown is like, his family, how everyone back there means so much to him, especially his sister, kicking arse at a good school and making good friends. He loves her so much, and is happy to see her succeed where he personally fell flat, and part of why he works so hard at his passions is that he wants to give her a reason to be proud to be related to him.

He talks about his own friends, or tries to, until he notices Leon's impatience at being made to hear about humans that aren't the one in front of him.

(It really is strange to think that this creature is so interested in _him specifically._ )

He talks about his present life. Petty vents about money troubles, wishing that music could pay the bills, and wishing he didn't have to drift from part time job to part time job to make ends meet, or bother his friends by crashing on various couches sometimes. Leon frowns during that part, tail flicking nonsense swirls into the sand.

Piers talks about love. His failed attempts at it, rather. Leon presses himself against the glass when he drops a mention of someone who chased him only to drop him the instant they got their lay, and the fuming displeasure on the mer's face soothed some old part of his mind as much as it brought a smile to his face, and it made opening up about the rest of his personal life that much easier. He'd be guilty over the sheer amount of venting he's doing if not for the open fascination and interest sent his way.

"Dunno why I always go fer the big guys... Guess I've got a thing for feelin' protected? Sounds pretty pathetic out loud, just screams insecurity, but hey, can't help my type," he gustily says. "Not like it's gotten me anywhere. 'M kinda takin' a break from relationships right now. Ridin' out the single life, driftin' along, focusin' on my music... Writin' songs and lookin' for someone who actually wants to hear me."

He knows he could simply post his things online for anyone to hear, but the fear that no one will care always stays his hand. It's one thing to be unknown because his stuff is exclusive, and another entirely to be unknown because no matter how much he puts himself out there, people ignore him regardless.

"Wish there was someone out there I could gift my songs to. Somethin' special, you know? More than just singin' for my friends at parties, or buskin' for strangers. Maybe it's just the romantic in me, I dunno."

Small taps on the glass. Leon hovers, arms withdrawing behind his back, hips asway in a way that's almost coy.

"What's with you?"

Leon flicks his tail and places a hand on his chest, lifting the other and opening his mouth in pantomime song, topping it off with a twirl.

"Wait, really?"

The smile he gets is nothing but encouraging, and Piers flushes. Someone wants to hear him. Is _asking_ him to perform. He's been in such a musical slump lately, yet here he is, inspired from this little chunk of _you can do it!_

What's the harm in a single song. If Leon doesn't care for his singing, he'll stop.

He rises from his seat, palms out and pressing the air in a universal gesture. "Wait right here," he verbalizes, before realizing how stupid that was to say. "I'll be back in a wink."

He's still not used to singing for anyone without something between him and the audience, whether it's a mic stand, a beer bottle, or a trusty guitar. This acoustic's been at his side for damn near a decade now. It's practically his best friend, second to the living one, that is.

Piers fetches the instrument from the guest room he's been sleeping in and speedwalks back into Sonia's bedroom. Leon presses against the glass curiously as he drops onto the edge of the bed, guitar falling naturally into his arms and lap after slinging the strap over his shoulder.

"You ever heard one of these before? It's called a guitar."

He strums down all six strings, and with each pluck, Leon's eyes go wider. He swims to the top of the tank and pops his head out, arms hooking over the rim so he can rest his chin over it as well. Small fins flash at the sides of his head and remind Piers remarkably of an attentive cat.

"You like that, eh?" He plucks a few notes out and smiles at the sudden eagerness on the tiny thing's face. "Save any opinions 'til I sing for ya. This here's one I wrote meself. Acoustic version."

Lightning flashes and reduces the room to white light and black shadow for an instant. Piers patiently waits for the thunder to roll its course before setting his fingers where they need to be, clearing his throat, and finally starts to sing. The rain forces him to raise his voice, really project as if he were on the stage of whatever bar is desperate for a half-decent voice to fill the hour of drunken conversations among patrons who don't even toss him a glance.

This time, he's singing for someone who really wants to hear. Leon's attention is like a torch aimed right at him, warm as any stage spotlight, and Piers' heart picks up the pace when he realizes the mer is flicking his tail in time to the rhythm of his strums and plucks. His words take on the extra color of a smile and he sways harder to his own song, upping his showmanship, even rising from the bed during the bridge to do a dramatic dip and flick his hair with a head toss he's been practicing.

By the time the final notes of the guitar fade into the drum of rain, Piers' breathing has heavied, and his blood is buzzing with the energy of a performance. He adjusts the strap of the guitar and licks his lips.

"Well? How'd ya like it?"

Starry-eyed, Leon snaps out of some kind of daze and nods so hard the surface of the tank ripples. Piers relaxes and strolls up to the armchair by the tank, sinking down into it. Leon sinks as well, to chase his line of sight, the sway of his tail slower and wider and giving Piers a better view of the beautiful colors.

"Thanks for listenin'. I... I think I really needed that. I've got more, if you wanna hear 'em. I'll sing 'em special, just for you."

Is Leon honestly blushing? Sharp teeth nibble at full lips, tiny white triangles that would be terrifying if Leon were as big as mer can grow to be. Ah, must not know how to say no politely.

"'S alright if you've already had your fill. I'm glad ya listened to me at all. Thanks, luv." He passes the mer a soft smile and rises from the chair, lifting the guitar strap over his head to set the instrument aside, but a tiny _thunk_ stills him before the guitar can touch the floor.

Leon's knuckles rest against the glass. Face set in startling determination, he flares his gills once more, framing his neck and jaw with eye-catching violet. Every fin along the length of that tail spreads in full, sunset glory, from the rosy hues of the sharper fins at Leon's hips to the full twilight of the rippling fans below. Tiny scales glimmer like coins at the bottom of a fountain.

The display roots Piers to the spot. No wonder people go crazy over these creatures when they're this beautiful... Those colors are arresting. Why show him such a thing, what does it mean?

It's attention-grabbing, that's for sure. Maybe Leon just didn't want him to put the guitar away. He wants to hear more?

Piers swallows, heart skipping, and slings the strap back over his neck. Delight fills the tank, and that enthusiasm is contagious. Who's he to end the show early with an audience this hungry for more?

"Alright. Let's keep this show goin', why don't we." He strums in a bold chord and finds himself grinning when Leon does a loop in the water, flashing more colors all the while. "I'll be here all night!"

. . .

Dawn breaks by the time the storm clears away. The sky is sunny and clear and the sea is a brilliant green. The gentle surf swirls around Piers' ankles, scooping the sand out from where he stands and making him shift his footing with every new wave.

"Well, Leon? You ready to set off?" His voice is lightly rasped, tired from a night of singing.

Inside the bucket, scales brilliant and blinding now that the sun is out, his little friend does a twirl. Piers chuckles and wades deeper, hardly sleepy despite not fetching a single wink of sleep last night.

"It was real nice spendin' time with ya." He pokes the tip of his finger in the water and smiles when the mer swims up to grab it, this time rubbing a cool cheek against him. "Shame we'll probably never meet again, but hey. Transience is a beauty of its own."

Before Piers can set the bucket into the water, Leon splashes and reaches up, hands breaching the surface. Piers hunches and lifts the bucket closer to his face for a better look. The mer's fins flare out and those tan arms beckon him closer. Closer...

His bangs dip into the water, and Leon delights in a playful swim through the strands before suddenly surging up and breaching the surface completely. Something cold flutters against Piers' lips before a splash catches his face from the mer falling back in.

What—What the hell was that?

Blushing for a reason he can't define, Piers stammers through a final goodbye and lowers the bucket into the sea. Rather than dash right off, the flashy-tailed mer does a loop around his legs and grins up at him from beneath the surface, expression housing something that Piers can't hope to guess through the ripple and warp of the water.

Within the space of one wave lapping at his thighs and the next, Leon is gone, and Piers spends a long time standing in the ocean, staring out at the glittering sea, before finally shaking his head and wading back to shore.

He thinks he'll keep this entire experience to himself. Just like there's beauty in transience, there's beauty in the personal and private as well, and he knows the memories of last night will keep him precious company for years or decades to come.

\- - - Four years later - - -

"Gonna ask ya again, why the hell do ya need me here?"

Piers clutches the railing of the boat, desperate to cling to something solid as the hardy research vessel rocks with every wave. He's not _seasick,_ he just... prefers solid ground beneath him. Heavy boots. Concrete. Not pitching decks and splashing saltwater.

"Why, for your warm company provided, of course!" his best friend chirps. "You're the one who offered to tag along with my research, and today that means boats!"

"Coulda told me that before you accepted my volunteering."

"That's not how volunteering works, I'm afraid," Sonia singsongs. "It's your fault for signing up blind. For the next... let's see, five hours, you're all mine!"

Ugh... She's right. It is his fault that he's out here.

Much as he might bitch and moan, it really is worth being out here with her. Seeing Sonia in her element is always a joy. Even if that element is on a bloody boat. In the middle of a gulf. With dark clouds on the horizon.

Sonia's team is on the hunt for a sunken pirate ship from centuries ago that she pinpointed to be somewhere around this area, based on old maps and climate data and ocean current data and god knows how many other documents and maps and charts she cross-checked. He has no doubt she's absolutely correct about some old war galleon being sunk on the seabed below them.

What's definitely below them is the remote piloted submersible thing that's outfitted with radars and cameras and sensors whose purposes flew right over his head, connected via long cable to their boat. The only reason Sonia is out on deck instead of inside poring over the screens displaying all the streamed data is because she wanted some fresh air. Fresh, salty, wet air that's going to be hell on both their hair.

"Piers, look, you can see the other end of the gulf there!"

She points at the horizon, where a thin grey line is barely distinguishable from the sea. On her hand, a golden wedding band glints in the sun, and the shine of it instantly reminds him of someone he met years ago.

Years passed, but not a week has gone by where he doesn't think of how the little mer is doing. Is he still out there, somewhere? Braving the sea, avoiding humans as he should be? Hopefully uneaten.

A particularly large wave sharply tips the deck, and Piers scrambles to where Sonia leans over the railing, arm wrapping around her middle to stop her from tipping any more than she already is. She giggles at his concern and makes a show of tugging on the straps of her life jacket.

"I'm not the one you need to worry about. I'm a great swimmer. You, on the other hand..."

"Urgh, don't remind me." His own life jacket is winched tight as it could get on his skinny frame.

He squints at the horizon where Sonia pointed. The whole sky over there is thick with clouds, blurry below where rain pours. "You sure we'll be done before that hits us?"

"That? Oh, please, the meteorology report said the storm would barely miss us. We'll be fine!" She pats his arm and he reluctantly loosens his hold. "I'm going to step inside and check out the readings from the drone. You want to come in too?"

"Nah. Fresh air's best fer me. Bein' inside a room will only make me nauseous."

"If you say so. Ta!" With a cute wave of her fingers, Sonia strides across the deck as confidently as Piers would if he were on a solid stage.

"It'll barely miss us, she says..." he mumbles, leaning over the rail. He doesn't trust that weather report one bit. Just feel that wind, look at the water, that rain's going to hit before they know it.

Piers tears his eyes off the not-so-distant storm and lowers his eyes down the side of the vessel. Turquoise seawater laps and splashes against the white sides of the boat. He can make out his choppy shadow against the waves below, hair twisting in the breeze.

Apprehension aside, it is nice to be back out here. Could never stay away from the sea for long. Piers' hometown, hours away, is situated upon some cliffs. He'd spend hours as a lonely, angsty teen, standing on the grassy overlook and staring at the cold grey sea, salty wind racing so strong up the cliffside that one could easily imagine spreading their arms and catching flight should they lean over the edge just enough.

Of course, all that would happen is a swift acquaintance with the jagged rocks below. Churning and swirling with frothing sea, one would get scraped and scattered to bits in an instant. Would the seafoam turn pink, if only for a moment, before diluting away into innocuous white?

Piers huffs and flicks a stuck strand of hair off his face. Shoo, morbid thoughts. None of that while hanging out with friends. Best to leave it for his lyrics notebook. _Pink Seafoam_ does sound like a cool name for a song, he'll have to remember that one.

Below the waves, a muffled mass barely darker than the rest of the water crosses his field of view and vanishes into the shadow of the boat. Is there something down there...? No, must be a trick of the light. Sonia said that during this part of the year, there shouldn't be any whales visiting this gulf.

An exclamation from inside the boat's interior draws him back from the railing. The shouting is barely discernible through the growing wind, but he's always had sharp ears.

_"Something hit the sub drone!"_

_"What was that?"_

_"Look at the sonar, it's huge!"_

A drop of rain slaps the back of Piers' hand where it grips the railing. He jerks his head up only for a gust of wind to flay his hair and blind him, and he curses as he shoves it away from his face. Above them, clouds in a deep, wide range of greys twist and coil. He stumbles across the rolling deck to the bow of the research vessel, almost slipping as a large wave slams the boat. The railing slams into his stomach and he grabs it tight, staring out across the sea.

Advancing upon them is the blurry rush and dull roar of a rainstorm. The other side of the gulf is already masked, the curtain of rain disturbingly opaque.

_Barely miss us my arse!_

He needs to get inside before the deck gets too treacherous to walk upon. Rain is all well and good, he loves a nice storm and standing in the rain, but not while exposed on a deck for the next wave to toss him right off.

Piers bravely lets go of the railing and makes a beeline straight for the door of the boat's interior, and as luck would have it, that's the exact moment the storm hits the ship, and _hit_ is an understatement. They get fucking pummeled.

Raindrops flung like bullets pelt into every inch of exposed skin and reduce everything not five feet away into a blurry shadow.

The deck pitches straight down and the sensation of falling grabs hold of his stomach before another wave catches the boat and sends it rocketing back up. His legs buckle under the force and his knees hit the wood. There's nothing to grab hold of, nothing to keep him secure as the research vessel rolls sideways, the deck rendered a wet slide that Piers is helpless to plummet down. The dark sea yawns before him, gaping and so ready to swallow him whole—

His arms fling out to grab the railing before he can be flung off the deck. The impact of hard metal bar against his chest knocks the wind out of him even with the life jacket cushioning the blow. His legs kick at nothing but empty air, heels scrabbling uselessly against the smooth metal of the side of the boat. Nearby, there's a bang and a rattle, and he thinks he can hear his voice being shouted through the overwhelming wind. Sonia? A colleague? No, stay inside where it's safe!

The opportunity to shout for them to stay back is smothered from him as a wave crashes against the vessel, the spray blasting straight up as the bulk of the wave swamps right over him and fills his open mouth. He chokes on salt and has no choice but to swallow, nose and throat burning, eyes blind from wind and rain and wet hair and sea spray, hands numb and stiff around the rail. If he could just get back onto the deck, if he could just reach that door, if the boat would just stop changing direction every few seconds he could—!

Not fall.

Not bang his head against the lurching side of the boat.

Not be dunked into the chaotic waters and immediately crushed by a wave slamming over the back of his head.

Instinctive panic sets in and Piers claws at the water, hoping to high heaven that his life jacket preserves its namesake and keeps his head above the sea. A life jacket can't do anything about his hair, soaked and strangling and plastered to his face and filling his mouth with more water as he tries to breathe through the traitorous clogged filter. Skin and bones that he is, his body is already numb, the chafe of his waterlogged clothes the only thing registering as sensation and a laughable substitute for warmth.

A bead of red light blinks through the rain. Small. Smaller than it should be. How is the boat that far away already? How is he supposed to make it back to them? He's a terrible swimmer, weak even without waves to fight through. They're out in the middle of nowhere, centered in a deep gulf. Who's to say he won't get swept out to the open sea, where no one will find him?

If he doesn't drown first, he'll die out there. Hypothermia. Exhaustion. Hell, maybe a shark will find him.

Another wave lifts him up and hurls him like a dizzy ragdoll. He gasps for air while he can before he's punched underwater, a roar all around him as his life jacket hauls him to the surface once more. His hair is swept forward, out, and it's heavy, so heavy, so hard to lift his face out of the water with this deadweight dragging and smothering him. His arms only tangle when he tries to claw it from his face, and his next desperate gasp is half seawater.

Lungs burning, his precious lungs that he's so proud of, able to hold a note for ages yet fucking useless when any attempt at breathing only chokes him further.

Death by drowning it is. He had a good run. Managed to get some music published last year, got to see his best friends married, scratched some things off his bucket list. Never did manage to find someone to fall in love with, though, that's the saddest thing. Gods, why is he thinking about such useless things when he's about to die?

Something grabs him that isn't a wave. It's solid, all-encompassing, and for the first time since he boarded the boat this morning, the world is steady. The contrast alone is enough to jar him, and his body, exhausted from its futile struggle against the elements, goes limp against whatever supports it. His breaths are shallow and quick and his stomach churns. The life jacket might as well be a straightjacket with how tightly it's wrapped around his chest, and the rain is still relentless against his face. Everything's cold and numb but burns all the same. He's tired, so tired...

Unconsciousness takes him, as a dull flash of gold reminds him of something small and delicate from years ago.

. . .

He wakes up in the shade, flat on his back, grass beneath him. A cool breeze tickles his face and rouses a weak moan from him, and the mere act of using his throat causes his stomach to convulse. Piers flops onto his side and heaves, seawater burning his mouth on its way out. He coughs and gags and spits and chokes until he's thrown up all the sea he swallowed while halfway on his way to dying.

...He didn't die? He's alive? Where the fuck is he? This isn't a beach, there's all this grass, and seagulls crying overhead in the clear blue sky, and it's cool and shaded from the...

Giant... shadow...

Arms weak, Piers pushes himself up and turns just enough to look at what's above him. And almost screams. What comes out instead is a pathetic hoarse attempt at a shout. He kicks at the grass and scrambles back, away from the _enormous face staring right at him._

A deep croon emanates from the creature, and massive spiked fins fan out, sticking through lavender hair thick and glossy, and eyes, huge and deep and trained right on him, those eyes are... they're gold.

No way...

Piers retches the last dregs of seawater from his stomach—god, disgusting—and spits onto the grass one final time.

"Leon?" he rasps. "That you, mate?"

The gigantic mer beams with all the force of a lighthouse point-blank, and while Piers can appreciate a handsome smile when he sees one, holy shite, those fucking teeth.

"You... You're huge!" he weakly proclaims, more to help himself process the obvious than to point anything useful out. "Bloody 'ell, how'd ya get so big?"

Leon visibly preens, and that familiar expression of pride pulls a disbelieving laugh out of him. It lapses into a wretched cough again when it irritates his throat. Leon's ear-fin flicks out upon hearing it, and suddenly the giant mer is in his face, inspecting him from head to toe. A massive hand whose palm Piers could easily curl up and sit upon reaches for him. He tenses, expecting to be grabbed, but all that happens is a single long finger gently taps him on the head, gentle enough that if his eyes were closed it would pass as the touch of a friend or lover. The tap turns into a pat, then a pet, then a long stroke over his soggy head.

"I'm alright, promise!" He pushes the finger away, smiling despite himself at the affection. "You saved me. Thank you."

Another croon. A softer smile, sharp fangs hidden behind plush lips.

"Guess we're even now, eh?"

Somewhere in the distance there's a large splash, and Leon's eyes widen like he just remembered something. An excited chitter fills the air and that giant hand motions for him to stay put.

"Er... okay. Won't go nowhere, promise." He crumples back onto the grass, legs all too happy to get more rest.

Leon beams, and vanishes over the edge of the low cliff. Contrary to his promise, Piers scrambles over the turf enough to peer over the edge, and catches sight of a length of gorgeous tail arcing just beneath the surface of the water, sunset hues lashing and splashing spray in a final flick.

Okay then. Guess he needs to just... stay put. He's got no energy to argue otherwise.

Piers takes stock of himself. Still got the life jacket on, his wet jeans feel horrid against his legs, and he's missing a shoe and sock. Hair's a bedraggled, dripping mess that he doesn't even want to think about right now. It's a problem for Future Piers.

His cold fingers fumble with the buckles on the life jacket and the instant the garish thing is flung away he feels like he can finally breathe. He drags his remaining shoe and sock off and tosses them aside to dry, and debates stripping his jeans off too, but for some reason the idea of Leon coming back to him half naked has him blushing.

After wringing out the horrendous lost cause on his head best he can, Piers heaves a sigh, crawls to a drier span of grass, and flops onto his back, wincing as the sharp motion dislodges water from his inner ears that leaks out in a grossly warm trickle. He really almost died and a mer really saved him. Must be from the near-death experience, but everything seems more colorful, somehow.

Sky's so blue and pretty that you'd hardly believe a storm swept through. The seagulls fly above in lazy arcs, squawking in a way that's only romantic if you don't have to exist around them constantly. To him, it's sweet, grating music that reminds him he's really here.

His hand drifts to his pocket, and ah, empty. Of course. Even if his phone managed to stay with him throughout his near-death adventure, there's no way it'd still function.

A good half hour passes before he starts to worry. Leon will come back, right? The mer didn't fuck off after saving his life, never to be seen again without even a proper goodbye. Leon doesn't seem the type to do that...

The next fifteen minutes crawl by as long as the past half hour when a distant surge has Piers sitting upright. A large hand lifts into view over the edge and clasps onto the cliff, and before long a handsome head comes into view.

Relief pierces through him as he stumbles to standing. Before he can take more than two steps, a second hand lifts, clenched into a fist with something trapped within. Leon sets it onto the ground before him, practically glowing with anticipation. The hand retreats, leaving behind an old chest encrusted with barnacles and oozing water into a puddle in the grass.

Piers stares at it. Then at Leon. Then back at the chest.

"Wait. This ain't for me, is it?"

Leon nods and smiles even wider, gesturing towards the chest and prodding at it with a claw. No, this is just too much, he cannot emotionally deal with this. Where the hell did it even come from?

"You've already saved me life, I don't need this!"

Leon wilts. Those long fins droop and his whole body slumps, lips downturning into the most heartbreaking pout, and Piers' heart about stops. He's never backpedaled so hard in his life.

"Okay, okay! Thank you very much! I'm openin' it!" He falls to his knees and inspects the rusted lump that used to be a lock. No way is he touching that with his bare hands... He pats around for a rock and finds one big enough to wield. Here goes.

One bash, two, and then the ancient metal crumbles. The lid groans as Piers heaves it up with trembling arms. He glances through the crack. An expensive glitter has his heart leaping into his throat. The lid slams shut as he stumbles onto his arse.

Logically, he should have expected this, but he's not exactly operating at peak capacity right now after almost drowning, and the sight of _that_ only dislodged a few more brain cells from their stations.

"You didn't... Leon, that's—do you know what's in there?"

Radiating confidence, Leon reaches out and uses a single finger to pry the chest back open, guiding the lid to flip all the way open as easily as Piers would with Marnie's old toy chest.

There aren't any stuffies or colored blocks inside this one.

The whole damn thing is filled with gold.

His jaw slackens as Leon dips a claw inside and stirs. The unmistakable clink and shimmery swish of metal-on-metal tickles his ears. Up lifts the hand, and hooked on the very end of the claw is some sort of... fine chain. A necklace, practically dripping with tiny charms of cut gems and teardrops of, surprise, more gold. He sits there helplessly as it drifts closer, catching the sunlight in a thousand different ways. That thing's got to be worth enough to set him up for life if he's smart with the money, and there's a whole bounty's worth more in that chest.

Leon brought him gold and jewels. Gifted the whole box to him. But... why? They're even now, each with a life saved and debt repaid. Leon didn't have to hunt down treasure from whatever sunken ship he came across at the bottom of the gulf and give it to him.

Piers' eyes widen and he shoots to his feet before the proffered necklace can come any closer.

Sunken ship. Searched for. _Sonia._

Here he was lying on his arse without even knowing if their boat made it out of the storm!

"Leon! Leon, please, when you saved me, did you see a boat? Was anyone else in the water?"

The mer tilts his head, a touch disappointed that their moment was interrupted. The necklace lowers, but Leon still holds it out with a few hopeful clicks. _Take it,_ he seems to say. _For you._

Piers pushes the hand away. "No, Leon—later, I'll look at it later, I promise. It's lovely, but I need to know if those people made it out okay. Especially Sonia."

That gets Leon's attention. Piers clings to it, desperate.

"Do you know where she is? Please, can you take me to her? I need to make sure she's alright, she's really, really important to me!"

The large fins flanking Leon's face flag down farther than when Piers tried to reject the gifted riches, eyes brimming with sadness. Fear clutches Piers round the heart.

"Is she... No, she's not—she said she was a great swimmer!" he chokes out. "Where is she!"

Leon points in a direction that is _not_ open sea, and Piers about faints from relief. She's on land. The boat made it out of the storm. Says nothing about the state of her.

He strides up and grasps a large fingertip—not the one with the necklace dangling from it. "Take me to her. Please, Leon, I'm worried about her. She's so important to me, I need to know that she's okay."

With another flash of sulking that both confuses and frustrates him, Leon retracts his hand. The necklace drops back into the chest, and the lid closes. The dull thunk of it knocks some guilt into him. He doesn't mean to be cruel by shoving away a present, ridiculous as the gift is, but he needs to confirm if Sonia—and by extension the others on her research team—are alive and well.

Treasure tucked back within a hand, Leon reaches out once more, palm up. Piers wastes no time in scrambling onto that webbed palm, unable to get much purchase on the smooth skin, but it hardly matters when he's safely cupped. The sun filters through the webbing between Leon's fingers, tan skin sheened over with near-translucent scales.

It's a good thing he isn't standing, because his whole tiny world lurches and he tumbles within Leon's grasp. The sky flips and wind thrashes, and all he can do is clutch onto the mer's thumb as they fall into the sea with a splash greater than any energetic whale could hope to muster.

Leon swims at the surface, face and hand above the water. A third eyelid flicks over those golden eyes to protect them from the spray. Leon isn't looking at him. Piers collapses to sit upon the smooth palm, back against curled fingers and protected from the wind by the webbing. They're going insanely fast, yet the ride is impossibly smooth. Leon's keeping him so steady...

Piers lowers his hand and rests it upon the cool skin, idly stroking to calm himself down as the mer effortlessly cleaves through the sea.

Leon takes him to one end of a hidden curve of beach, slithering his huge body into shallow enough waters that he can stretch out and carefully deposit Piers into the surf. His head goes on a desperate swivel, searching this way and that for a prone body on the sand, or the wreckage of a boat, or—

"Sonia!"

The shallow waves slosh around his shins as he stumbles to shore, sprinting headlong down the damp beach and dodging pieces of driftwood laid bare by the storm. In the distance stands his friend, hunched over while talking into a phone with a loose life jacket dangling from her other hand.

"Sonia!" he calls once more, putting the full force of his singer's lungs into her name, wrecked throat be damned. She startles and her tiny form turns towards him, and the instant she clocks who's racing towards her, phone and life jacket hit the sand and she comes barreling towards him.

He slows down. She does not.

They crash together and Piers gets knocked flat. The sand, beaten hard and flat from the rain, cushions his fall exactly none, but he doesn't care, not when a flurry of red hair covers his face as Sonia plants herself on top of him, face wrenched into a heartbreaking pre-cry that tugs his heartstrings right off.

She all but sobs his name. "Piers! I thought—W-We couldn't find you in the w-water, or after m-m-making it to shore, when the storm passed by we went back out to look for you but—" she gulps and buries her face against his chest. His arms hover uselessly before folding around her shuddering back. "There was nothing. I- I started combing the beaches in case you washed up somehow, but I had to stop, because what if all I found was your..."

She shakes her head violently against him, and he tightens his hug to keep her grounded.

"It's okay! I'm alright, see? Safe and sound. Took a tumble off the boat, but I'm alright."

"The boat!" She wails, muffled against his shirt. "I never should have made you come with me on that s-stupid research trip, I'm so sorry, Piers!"

"Hey..." He rubs her back until she peeks up at him through messy bangs.. "It ain't your fault. You didn't make me do shite. I volunteered, remember?"

Sonia hiccups and weakly swats him. Her weight is a comfort and he hopes his sharp corners are the same for her as she cries. Can't imagine how distraught she was, thinking he'd died...

She's always hated letting anyone see her cry, so he gives her all the time she needs to calm down. Wouldn't be the first time he's loaned her a shoulder, or chest, or whatever body part was most convenient for hiding a red, sniffly face at the time.

Piers tilts his head back against the sand, not even caring about the grains getting all in his hair because it's a lost cause anyways, and searches upside-down for where Leon might be. Over a large hunk of driftwood in the way, he spots some purple keeping its distance. Sorry, Leon, just a few minutes more, they need this...

All cried out at last, Sonia sniffles and sits up, scrubbing at her face to rid it of any evidence of tears, despite the entire rest of her face being a flushed giveaway that she was upset. Strong lass that she is, she stands herself up, dusts herself off, and offers him a hand.

"How'd you survive?" she shakily asks, hauling him up with ease when he takes her hand. "We were so far out, and the storm was over in a flash, there's no way it managed to sweep you all the way to land..."

Rather than try to explain, Piers points down the beach. Sonia follows the direction of his arm, and he knows she's spotted Leon when her entire expression opens up into shock. She slowly turns to face him, and the best he can give her is a sheepish shrug.

"Lucky guy, ain't I..."

" _Lucky?_ " Sonia stops and restarts several times. "Piers, that's a _mer!_ I've never seen one in my life and my entire field involves combing the ocean! Oh my god, and he saved you..." Sonia glances back at Leon, hand pressed to her chest.. "Do you think we can approach? O-Or will he swim away?"

That, he can answer with confidence. "He'll stay. He, er, brought me to you when I asked him to. Real friendly, he is."

Incredulous, Sonia shakes her head and grabs his hand, tugging him down the cluttered beach. He almost trips over washed up kelp and nearly steps on a jellyfish, but before long, they've made their way to where Leon patiently lies in the shallows. The mer perks up upon seeing him approach, and moves as if to reach out, but when Leon's gaze falls to their joined hands, he sags. In the distance, a huge tail half-heartedly lifts and flops with a distant splash.

"Uhm... Is he alright?" Sonia asks. "He seems sad about something..."

"What? No, I'm sure he's fine, he's always been happy when I walk up to him."

To demonstrate, he drops Sonia's hand and approaches the mer, stepping into the surf with arms outstretched. "Leon, mate! Thank you so much, I'm so glad she's okay!"

Leon casts him a cautious glance, flicking between him and Sonia, and a questioning tilt of the head has Piers scratching his.

"What's gotten into you? Somethin' wrong?"

Muscular shoulders hunch, the scales scattered over them winking in the sunlight. Poor thing's deflated...

Sonia jogs up behind him, partially hidden, and touches his arm to beckon him to lean down so she can whisper. "Piers, he looks heartbroken over something..."

That's an odd word choice, but distressingly accurate. Before he can hope to speculate what's wrong, Leon fixes Sonia with a furtive look. Gold meets gold. Eyes to ring. And oh, fuck, if he thought Leon looked heartbroken before, now he looks simply _demolished._ A high keen sparks from the depths of Leon's chest and the mer shifts to hide a hand—the one holding the chest—under the water.

With a quiet gasp, Sonia mutters something under her breath and grabs his shoulder to whisper once more. "Piers, I think he thinks we're together."

Piers tears his eyes off the gloomy titan. "What, like a couple? Why would that matter?"

"It matters if he's interested in you!" she hastily delivers under her breath, face pink.

Piers' heart leaps into his throat, and several things fit together to make a dreadfully clear picture. The gift of gold up on the cliff. Leon upset when he mentioned wanting to find not a friend, but someone who's 'so important' to him. Leon staring at their held hands. Flipping out over the golden wedding band. Hiding the chest, the way one would shamefully hide a bouquet...

Oh. Oh no.

"A-Are you positive he has a thing fer me?" he whispers in a last ditch effort towards a sane world.

"Absolutely! I've read accounts of it happening before, it's not impossible. Just look at him, you don't need to be a marine biologist to tell that this fellow's sad that you're taken. What did you even do?"

"Nothin'!" She looks doubtful. Piers fidgets. Explaining can wait, first he's got to clear up this misunderstanding before Leon gets so upset that he flees, never to be seen again.

Panicking just a smidge, Piers shakes Sonia off and wades deeper into the water, waving to get Leon's attention. "Leon! She's not my partner, or mate or whatever! She's married! To someone who could easily kick my arse, might I add! That ring's not from me, it's from her wife. We're just friends, I swear it!"

Hope swells within those beautiful eyes and confirms everything. Leon comes back to life, fins flashing with more color, and the mer slithers farther up onto the beach. Small waves rock against Piers' knees and he holds himself still as a tan hand ever so gently rubs him across the cheek, impossibly tender for something so large. Something in Piers' chest aches for it.

Then Leon reaches over him and goes for Sonia. Piers whips around, a worried demand to stop held on his tongue, but all that happens is the mer giving her a tap on the head. Piers relaxes. Thank goodness, no enmity between them... Everything's going to be just fine.

"Leon, was it?" Sonia sweetly calls, staring right at Piers. Fuck. Why does he feel guilty all of a sudden?

The mer nods, head held high and a friendly curve to his lips.

"Could you give us just a moment? There's something I really, _really_ need to discuss with my friend. I'll give him back to you right after!"

...Oh dear. No, Leon, please save him from this!

He's nudged and pushed by a large hand towards the shore, encouraging chirps hitting his back. Sonia claps her hands together beneath her chin with a gushing thanks, and the moment Piers is herded close enough, a small hand clasps over his shoulder with the strength of a vice and hauls him away enough that they can speak in relative private, backs turned to the curious mer.

"Tell. Me. Everything. How did you get his name? Why's he so interested in you?"

Beans need to be spilled, and he won't be freed until they are.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell ya! First off, this... actually ain't the first time we've met."

Sonia's jaw drops and he winces, rushing through the rest of the story. "I saved him once, years ago, when he was small enough to fit in me hands. He was stuck in a tide pool, was gonna be eaten if I didn't do nothin'! You can't tell me I did the wrong thing by savin' him. After that, I may have. Uhm. Kept him overnight while there was this big storm whippin' about. But I let 'im go the mornin' after! I thought that was the last I'd ever see of him, but, hah, fate's funny about that, eh?"

"You kept. A mer. Overnight," Sonia deadpans right back, looking mildly disgusted at his violation of respect for mother nature.

"Okay, when you say it like that it sounds real bad, but I swear—"

"Wait, was this while you were using my _house?_ Piers!" she gasps when the only thing on his face is unfiltered guilt, and grabs his upper arms and shakes him. "I can't believe you didn't call me! Where did you put him!" Realization flashes and she groans. "Please don't say the..."

"...The anemone tank," he sullenly finishes. "I'm sorry, Sonia, it was the best place I could think to put the little guy. He was small, only this big! And I swear I didn't do anything weird to him, we just... hung out. His scales reminded me of dandelions, so I named him Leon just to have somethin' to call him. Nothin' flirtatious happened, I just talked at him, told him stories... he seemed to enjoy when I sang him my songs, and... What. Why are ya lookin' at me like that. Sonia?"

"You really are stupid sometimes," she says as casually as one would remark on the weather.

"I know we ain't all doctorate-level researchers, c'mon, tell me where I so clearly messed up." There's no way he did anything flirtatious that night. That's just absurd.

Sonia pinches the bridge of her nose. "I cannot _believe_ you sang to him... No, actually, I can, because it's you. Oh, Piers..."

That sigh twists his gut with worry. "What does that mean!"

He thinks he already knows what it means. And he's scared of being right.

She drops her hand and rubs her temples instead. "Okay, I took an elective on this at university, so I can't really blame you for not knowing another species' culture. Singing is like... Mer Courtship 101. You spent all night serenading him, and it clearly worked. I can tell he's infatuated with you. Maybe you're also just his type." She sighs, resigned to reality. "I've got to say, out of all the mer you could have courted, you sure picked a fine one. This guy's huge. Biggest I've ever seen, even in photographs..."

They both look over their shoulders. Leon lifts under the attention, fanning his fins and flashing their colors with an attractive tilt of his head and shoulders. Heat rushes to Piers' face. This far away, he can appreciate just how handsome Leon really is. Puts plenty of human models to shame. Those arms are muscular and powerful, hands so gentle, and now that he's looking, oi, that chest is just... picturesque. And he can't forget that smile...

Leon delights in his staring, and tucks a lock of pretty hair behind his ear-fin, smile taking a turn for the coy and making Piers' heart skip faster.

"Yeah... Sure grew big since then..."

"So...?"

He has to mentally apply a crowbar to pry his gaze off Leon. "So what?"

"He'll probably understand if you turn him down. It sucks that he's got his hopes up after knowing we're not a couple, but... at least now he knows you're not some kind of two-timer who chases other partners after flirting with him all night."

Turn him down?

For some reason, the idea hollows a pit in his stomach. Leon's been nothing but good to him. Their first night together was fun, friendly, inspiring. It led him to write some of the best songs he's ever made, and pushed his sorry arse to buckle down on getting his music published and monetized. Meeting Leon changed his life for the better and that was before the mer saved his life.

"Piers," Sonia says in a warning tone. "I know what you're thinking."

"There're accounts of mer bein' with humans, you said?" he hesitantly asks.

A low groan barely reaches him. "Yes. It's incredibly rare, since mer hardly show their faces to people, but it happens. Don't tell me you're actually considering this..."

"What if I say I am?"

"Is it because you've been single for so long? I'm saying this as your friend, but you kind of have a bad habit of falling for anyone who shows you the right amount of attention. Just because he's nice, doesn't mean it'll work out."

He winces at the spot-on assessment. She's right. But that doesn't mean this is the end of it.

"I've been single for so long because I've worked to get over that. When was the last time you saw me get into a messy relationship with someone who didn't treat me right? Who'd toss me the moment they got bored of me, or waited for me to figure out for myself that they weren't interested in me anymore?"

Since before he first met Leon, that's when. He knows he's made a good point when she has no immediate rebuttal.

"I know this sounds insane, but I- I honestly do like him. I never thought I'd register as an option to a mer, when he's so... grand, and beautiful, and generous." His hand curls near his chest. "That first night we were together, he really made me feel special. I had so much fun with him, more than I've had with any stranger. Knowin' that he actually likes me, of course I've got to give it a chance. When else might I meet someone like this? Especially knowin' that I might be able to make them happy back. I dunno what he thinks I might add to his life, but even if later he decides he doesn't want me anymore, or we realize we can't make it work, that's... that's somethin' we'll have to discover together. We won't know if we don't try."

"..." Sonia casts another look behind them, and he follows her gaze. Leon, patient yet happy to be paid attention, gives a friendly ripple of his fins and a cute wave with his fingers that Piers returns. "You are insane. But you're also the one person I know who's most likely to make something this crazy work. If you're positive about this, I'll support you."

"Thank you," he breathes, and gratefully wraps her into a tight hug. "Don't know what I woulda done if you were steadfast against this."

She clicks her tongue. "I've got your best interests in mind, that's all. And I'll happily point you towards the best research papers for learning about mer culture, so you don't commit any social faux pas or become engaged by accident, which I can _so_ see you doing."

Please, he might have courted Leon all night by accident, but he's pretty sure something as significant as _that_ wouldn't fly over his head. Unless you count the... oh dear. Entire ancient box full of gold. Surely that was just Leon being incredibly generous? Wanting to help him out, and also see how he looks draped in pretty jewelry... Made into something treasured...

Piers coughs and mentally swats the fantasy away. He's lucky steam isn't coming out of his ears.

Speaking of treasure!

The instant he offhandedly mentions that by the way, Sonia, _I think Leon knows where that sunken ship might be because he brought me something from it,_ she gasps and loses all apprehension, the curiosity of a scientific mind hijacking every other thought.

"Please ask him to show me! Please please pleaaase, Piers!" She clasps her hands under her chin and aims those huge sparkly kitten eyes up at him. Ugh, she's always been a pro at weaponizing her cuteness.

"So now you're on board with me havin' a mer boyfriend, I see how it is."

"It's in the name of discovering history! Besides, I know you have good intentions. You'd never take advantage of him or sell him out to other humans."

He masks his fuzzy feelings with a dry remark. "Askin' him for his knowledge of the seafloor ain't takin' advantage of him?"

Her cheek puffs out and he snickers, tousling her hair. She reminds him so much of a squirrel sometimes.

"It's a favor! Plus he looks eager to show off for you, so if you're considering dating the big guy, let him show off!" She wraps around his arm and marches him straight back to the shore, smirking at the scarlet flush to his face and thrusting him in front of the handsome mer who's nothing but happy to have him close again.

. . .

Three entire hours it took for Leon to return to him. Piers elected to stay behind, having had enough of the ocean for one day, while Leon coordinated with Sonia and set out with research vessel in tow.

In the meantime, Piers let himself into Sonia's home and used every last drop of hot water the place contained. He earned that shower. Deserved it. The salt came off his skin and clean steam filled his lungs and soothed his throat. His poor hair was a sad, bedraggled monster that needed every minute of love and care (and copious quantities of shampoo and conditioner that he promised himself he'd replace) to be domesticated once more. It was in the middle of devouring some leftovers from the brunch he and Sonia had this morning that he caught a glimmer out the window, signaling the mer's return to the place he and Piers first met all those years ago.

He leaves the beach house, hair damp and wavy, clothes breezy and light, and descends the back stairs feeling far less like he almost died today.

The sunshine has warmed the sand since he last crossed it, the grains shifty and warm beneath his bare feet. The air is cooler, now. Seamless evening, approaching twilight.

He finds Leon resting with his arms folded beneath his head. The surf catches the tresses of lavender hair and carries them up to the shallows, only for the next pull to drag them back out to sea. Long purple bangs still damp with seawater hang like dense vines. Several scars stand out against the tan skin that he never noticed before. What sort of battles could Leon have entered in the time they were apart? Piers can't imagine anything that could possibly challenge Leon now.

He's never been more grateful that this stretch of beach is privately owned. Breathtaking creature...

In the sand, in front of folded arms, lies the chest. Leon managed to keep it, then. Piers is pretty sure such a thing should probably be turned in to the government and taxed the hell out of, but since a mer found it, it's different. Anything that belongs to them can't be taken.

If Sonia was right, and Leon really fancies him, might he become one of those things?

Large eyes flutter open as he approaches, and a mouth big enough to rip chunks out of whales opens up in a silent, gusty yawn. He's treated to a view of pristine, triangular teeth, lightly serrated and all too capable of shredding flesh. They also make such a pretty smile, one that he returns once Leon spots him approaching.

Finally alone together. The world demands nothing of them right now. They have the space and time to just _be._

Leon's always understood whatever he says. They could talk now. About plenty of things. Or rather, Piers could talk. Leon doesn't seem to be able to, but he knows there must be some way of communicating.

Leon lazily rolls onto his side, body twisting and head tilted onto the sand. Remarkably similar to the way a lover might roll over in bed come morning, simply to meet his eyes, with something to say...

On some unexplainable hunch, Piers picks his way closer over the cooling sand. Every step heightens the size difference between them, just as every step heightens Leon's interest until the mer is shifting in place and grinning, eyes alight with pleasure to have Piers so close, and hope that they might get ever closer.

His arm lifts, hesitates, and closes the distance to rest his hand upon the surprisingly warm skin of Leon's forehead. A small breeze tickles his whole body when those huge eyes close, eyelashes catching the evening air like fans. Still following his gut, Piers closes the distance entirely, and rests his forehead against Leon's.

A presence that is very much not his own blooms into his mind like some self-contained sun, warm and bright and full of life and bursting with feeling. Joy and relief and gratitude emanate in waves, swamping his psyche until he wants to smile and cry and laugh all at once. It nearly knocks him on his arse, and the only thing that stops him from tearing away from the torrent of imposed emotion is the presence suddenly checking itself. The million-watt brightness tones down to a comfortable hundred, colored pink with bashfulness (not visibly, it just... _feels_ pink), and Piers gets the oddest sensation of an apology inserted into his skull.

This is crazy. Off the wall bonkers. Wait, can Leon hear every little thing going through his brain? Or is it just an emotional thing? Because the only emotion Piers can name right now is wonder. Wonder tempered with a touch of healthy, adult wariness.

The foreign presence in his head isn't uncomfortable, or invasive. It's just... there. Like it's in the same room as him, if the room were his brain.

It's also obviously Leon.

Communication's got to be two way somehow...

Piers does his best to project his thoughts towards the presence in his head. A simple greeting. Whatever the magic mind-link equivalent is of a friendly wave.

_Hello...? Leon?_

_[!!!!!!!]_

What returns aren't words, but they aren't emotions, either. Sentiment and meaning and intent all swirl together into the vague conglomeration that is pre-language, the stuff in your head that exists as an innate _knowing_ before it's all packaged and funneled into words that can be delivered to other people. It's universal, above the need for words, and once Piers dips into it, he finds that he's perfectly able to translate it all into words, should he choose to go that extra step.

 _[What call you?]_ is the basest, purest translation. Leon's asking for his name.

"Piers," he says out loud. "Can't believe I never told you 'til now." An echo of his name reflects back through his head, wrapped in satisfaction and happiness. "What's yours? Other than the one I gave you."

 _[Original name...]_ An impression of how to move one's mouth and tongue is offered to him, and he accepts it, mouthing along with the lesson.

"Dande... That's a long way off from Leon." Funny how it's just like the flower Piers named him after, just from the other end.

_[(Favorite/precious/preferred/chosen) name, Leon! I am Leon, thanks to you!]_

For some reason, that last message felt far deeper than the surface meaning implied.

A shadow of a memory is flung his way for him to catch. Tall rock walls all around, desperation, claustrophobia, a curl of red reaching for him, hungry. Something huge and hard and yellow dunking down and offering an escape. A fragmented visual of Piers' face from a low, low angle, a muffled voice, and relief. Trust. Gratitude for being saved. Allowed to live on, thanks to him...

Piers licks his lips and presses himself harder against Leon's face. He thinks he's getting the hang of how this feels. His attempt at conveying his thoughts feels clumsy, but he can tell that Leon will wait as long as needed for him to fumble through it, all too happy to receive from him.

_You got big. So big! Surprised me!_

Satisfaction ripples from the Leon in his head. _[I grew strong. Strongest thing around. Nothing can hurt you, I'll protect you! You like strong, so I became strong!]_

His own memory comes floating back. Something he said almost in passing the first night they met. _"Dunno why I always go fer the big guys... Guess I've got a thing for feelin' protected."_

Leon put the work in to grow big and strong for his sake...? This whole time they were apart, Leon was thinking of him, just like Piers always had his mer on the mind...

The subtle flash of possession must not have been subtle enough, because the Leon in his head swoops closer—as if physical distance really applies in something this abstract, but closer is the best way to describe it—and seems to wind all around him in a dance.

_[Yes! You and me, me and you, together! No more apart!]_

_But. I'm different from you. Okay? That okay?_ A fizzle of frustration. _I mean, is—_ he passes a reference to what he conveyed earlier, before his question— _okay?_

 _[Yes yes! You're different. Human.]_ The concept of _human_ comes packaged with a myriad of impressions, too thinly sliced for him to parse beyond the vaguest of glimpses. Some positive, some negative, all cautious, but curious. _[You're human, and I like you. You (sang to/courted/want/desire) me. See me as worthy. And you are (beautiful/delightful/dazzling)!]_

Piers makes no attempt to hide both his embarrassment and his gratitude. He's getting the hang of this, and rather than struggle to compartmentalize his feelings so they can be delivered with thought-words, he can let the feeling itself do the talking. Leon delights in receiving it, and does another happy curl around his conscience.

_You're beautiful too. I like you too. You make me feel..._

He struggles once more, this time to summon an emotion, or something close to it. The sensation of being valued, and special. It's difficult to generate, though, when he's never once been able to make himself feel that way on his own. He needs to tell Leon that's how he feels, it's important!

Something touches the back of his head. A gentle stroke, soothing, and the calm that sweeps over him carries as much meaning as what he originally tried to send. For a minute, they stay just like that, leaning against each other and sharing the same sense of care, gentle as any rocked cradle.

_[Want you happy. Can I make you happy? Me? Allow me make you happy?]_

_Only if me making you happy is possible. I want... give back. I'm not amazing. Not like you. Can I be enough for you?_

All that comes back is warmth. Leon's presence, despite having no shape or form, is one big smile.

_[You already are.]_

He sucks a breath into suddenly-tight lungs, and his hand curls into a loose fist against Leon's head. He can't mean that...

_[Let me have you, Piers. Try this, with me! First, you take my gift, make life easier. Less stress. Human life difficult. I will make easier. Then, you can be with me!]_

"Oh..." he says beneath the edge of a whisper, overwhelmed by sheer thoughtfulness. Leon took every word he vented and chattered to heart, and came up with such a straightforward plan. It's almost laughably simple, but... it'd really work, wouldn't it? He could fund his passions, not have to worry about paying rent on time, and if he's meticulous with the money then—no, forget the details for now.

All that matters is this very first investment. The first step. Can he do it? He wants to, gods, does he want to.

"Leon, I..."

He shakes his head. If he's going to do this, he wants to do it Leon's way. Piers shuffles the scant few inches closer he can. He's practically leaning his whole self against his mer. Behind him, the sand shifts beneath the sweep of a large arm, and his whole body is lightly cupped in place. Held and safe.

Within this brief experience, he's found that there can be no lies. Everything passed this way is the truth, or at least fully believed by the one sending the thought, and this next message is no exception.

_I want to try with you. I'll do my best, Leon._

Slowly, gingerly, he rocks his face up, not once losing contact as he brushes his nose along smooth skin until his lips are resting there instead. He's distantly aware of a churn in the water as he presses a kiss to Leon's forehead.

Raw glee bursts through the connection.

_[!!!!! Piers! Yes! Mine!]_

Unsure if it's him or Leon behind most of the giddiness, and beyond caring which it is, Piers laughs. The link fades as he stumbles backwards but there's no less understanding, as Leon's face glows with joy.

"Guess this means we're boyfriends then, big guy."

Leon chirps and squirms in place, a bundle of energy that can't lie still any longer. Piers licks his lips and jogs a few more steps backwards. Out at sea, Leon's magnificent tail flicks and sends glittering spray arcing high into the air.

"Mind hangin' onto this for me a little longer?" He gives the chest a careful kick with his heel. "Think I'm of a mind to pull another all-nighter with you, right here under the stars, if you give me some time to fetch my guitar."

And some blankets. And snacks. And thicker clothes. And after writing a note to Sonia so she knows where he is once she gets home. Who knows, maybe she'll join them.

With shocking swiftness for someone so large, Leon flips onto his front with a gasp, already ushering his human to get back home already and come back soon with the instrument. Piers shakes his grinning head and takes off into a sprint, heart light as it beats a deep rhythm into his chest.

They'll figure things out as time goes on. For now, he'd say he's earned the right to only think ahead one sweet night at a time.


End file.
